A Son From Lands Unknown (PJO x Male Reader)

There Goes the Greyhound

(Y/N) was waiting outside of the Hephaestus cabin. He would have been leaning against the wall but was worried that doing so might burn through his sweatshirt. As for why he was wearing one in the middle of summer? Well, he was about to leave for a quest, one where the exact pathing is undetermined besides eventually winding up in Los Angeles and then the Underworld. Even if the quest doesn't take them somewhere random like Canada, (Y/N) was willing to bet there was at least some part of the Underworld that was cold.

Nights in the Mojave desert taught him that.

Instead, he was sat on the steps to the cabin, the sound of metal being hammered creating a decent rhythm. If he had a recording device, (Y/N) was sure that he could give it to an Apollo camper and they could make a song out of it. (Y/N) probably could have as well if he knew how to play. Maybe he could ask an Apollo camper to teach him-

'No, (Y/N), focus,' he told himself. 'You're about to go to basically Hell. Time to focus up.'

(Y/N) heard the door of the cabin open, and out stepped Beckendorf with a brand new rapier. The blade was thin and long, made of pure Celestial Bronze. It featured a wispy handguard made of iron rods sticking out on either side in the same way as the sharp edges. It also had a handguard that wrapped around the golden handle, though the handguard was slightly strange. It didn't connect with the bottom of the handle, instead having a loop just big enough for his pinkie finger.

"Good thing I had the mechanical skeleton lying around," Beckendorf said, pointing at the handguard. "Go on, give it a grip!" (Y/N) did so, causing the blade to bend. Where once it was the thin, straight line of a rapier, it became the curved blade of a classic saber. Beckendorf then told him to pull in twice in quick succession, which he did, causing the blade to retract into the handguard completely.

"Figured it would be bad to have you walking around New York with something that big," the son of Hephaestus chuckled. "The Mist can put in a lot of work, but something the size of your fist is easier to hide than a whole sword for those one-in-a-million clear-sighted ones."

"Clear-sighted?"

"Mortals who can see through the Mist," Beckendorf explained. "Rare, but it happens. Gotta be careful with them." (Y/N) gave him a nod before putting the sword into his sweatshirt pocket.

"So what's it called?" (Y/N) asked.

"That's your call. I just made the weapon."

"Huh... I'll have to think about it. Thanks for this."

"No problem," Beckendorf assured. "It's what we're here for. One more thing, though." Beckendorf went back into the cabin and grabbed something really quick. It was a metallic cape of sorts, meant to be worn over the shoulder.

"Probably gonna be seen as a scarf or part of your shirt or something," the smith said. "Noticed you don't use a shield, so I figured this would give you some protection. Now get going, I think you got a quest to get done." (Y/N) nodded his head before taking the cape and grabbing his backpack off of the stairs to the cabin before running to Thalia's tree. When he arrived, Chiron gave him a canteen of Nectar and a Ziploc of Ambrosia, a warning about overdosing on either, and then a reminder to hurry up. Percy, Annabeth, and Grover were already in the car. Chiron opened the passenger door of the car they were taking and hurried (Y/N) in before closing and knocking on the door, telling Argus to get going.

"Wait, why are you in the front?" Percy asked from the back. "Shouldn't it be the leader of the quest?" The question had a definite sarcastic edge to it, likely wondering why it wasn't Annabeth.

"Because all of you are too young," (Y/N) said. "U.S. law, no one under thirteen in the front seat. Can't have mortal police pulling Argus over and risk ending this quest to save the world." Percy crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, letting silence win for around ten miles.